


Don't you want me ?

by Potix



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Humor/Romance, Jealous Sherlock, Sherlolly - Freeform, mollock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-03
Updated: 2014-06-03
Packaged: 2018-02-03 06:49:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1735142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Potix/pseuds/Potix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post Reichenbach. "Molly Hooper, the docile and sympathetic woman who counted, had a romantic interest. A new romantic interest . A romantic interest that was not Sherlock Holmes. The certainty of his finding didn't leave him satisfied; au contraire, as John Watson would have said, he was really pissed off". Written (and published) on ff.net before season 3 aired.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steve Moffat, Mark Gatiss own Sherlock and his realm. I just own my computer,my version of Openoffice, and my sick fantasies. English is not my native language, please forgive the mistakes and the typos.

**Don't you want me ?**

_Don't you want me baby?_  
Don't you want me - oh?. . .  
Don't you want me baby?  
Don't you want me - oh?. . .

**Don't you want me – Human League**

* * *

 

John Watson entered the morgue, searching for his flatmate and best friend, Sherlock Holmes. He mouthed a silent "Hello" to Molly Hooper, who was speaking on the phone in her office, and approached the consulting detective, who was currently sitting at the microscope, a frown on his usually stoic face.

"How is the bacteria culture going ? Any improvement ?" John asked gingerly. Since Sherlock's resurrection, John had put his foot down: no more rotten body parts in the fridge, no more strange and inflatable experiments on the kitchen table or on the countertops if Sherlock wanted to conduct another study on decomposing eye balls, he could seek asylum at St. Barts.  **  
**Molly- always the gentle and pliable one- had agreed to save some space in for Sherlock's researches in one of the laboratories at the hospital, and curiously the man-child didn't throw a tantrum; he silently shrugged, and stopped to bring home severed fingers,but not before he forced his blogger to transport the human head and the foot that were already at home, back to the hospital. Since that moment, six months ago, Sherlock started to spend more time at St. Barts; when there were no cases or simply when he was too bored to shoot at the smiling face on the wall, John and Greg Lestrade were sure to find him there, sitting in silence in front of a microscope or dissecting some necrotic tissue near Molly.

Molly Hooper's behavior towards Sherlock Holmes had tremendously changed after his return to the land of the living. She was always polite, and a little emotional; but what really impressed John, was that she had started to treat Sherlock like she did with everyone else. She didn't stammer anymore; she didn't let him manipulate her emotions, and the blushing when Sherlock was near her was almost non-existent. John Watson was certainly not Sherlock Holmes, but he could see that finally Dr. Molly Hooper was overcoming her crush for the man who had broken her heart too many times with his indifference and harsh words; John's worry was that the egocentric young man in question wasn't ready to accept an assertive Molly.

Lost in his thoughts, John didn't notice Sherlock glaring at him, his lips a thin line.

"Anyway, did you receive a phone call from Lestrade yet ? Because I was think-"

"Oh, just shut up, John!" Sherlock cut him off. " I'm not interested in your plans for lunch with Miss Morstan, or in your choice of wallpaper for that flat you assume I don't even know about...I'm burdened with a lot of work, so do us both a favor and go to your soon-to-be wife immediately !"

John started to reply, when he caught his best friend froze at the sound of feminine laughter coming from the office at the end of the hall.  _It could it be only Molly,_ John thought, and then returned his attention to Sherlock and their quarrel. But instead of finding him focused on the petri dish in front of him, Dr. Watson noticed that Sherlock's face was completely turned in the direction of Molly's office, and he was assuming the same distant expression he usually had when he was in his mind palace.

John started to pay attention to the faint voice of the pathologist: he could only catch a few words of Molly's phone conversation, but it was surely enough.

 _"He's so handsome...can you imagine the stubble on his chin and cheeks on your skin ?"_ Molly giggled at something the other person on the phone said, and then she continued  _" I know ! And his hands...the way he twirls his cane...it's a shame he doesn't perform surgery anymore..." ._

Obviously Molly was speaking to a friend, and they were both praising the extraordinary qualities of a stranger - John felt a little ashamed, he didn't mean to listen to a private conversation like this. Sherlock was still and silent; John gave him a last look - he knew better than disturbing him while he was lost in the meanders of his mind - and left the morgue. Mary wanted his boyfriend's opinion about the page boys at the wedding, and John Watson was determined to give her a list of reasons of why the idea was completely ridiculous.

* * *

Unbeknownst to John Watson, Sherlock was not in his mind palace, nor he had been there for a long time. As he always repeated, John didn't observe; he only saw. His best friend got the wrong impression when he noticed his attention shift from the bacteria when they heard Molly's laugh: actually, Sherlock had paid attention to the pathologist's phone call from the beginning. At first Molly and her friend Julie spoke about banal things like work, and sales at a boutique, and a new nail varnish that apparently Molly was interested in buying, and he didn't give them too much attention; but suddenly Molly's voice changed, and his tone became more confidential, almost sultry. Evidently the new subject really interested the young woman, but she seemed ashamed by that.

 _"A romantic interest, perhaps..."_ he deduced. Molly was such a simple object to analyze, with her childish outfits, her pathetic affection for cats, and her fixation with sentiment. When John told him that 221B Baker Street was now off-limits for his experiments, he knew that Molly Hooper would have done everything in her power to give him a little spot in the morgue, and he was not so secretly pleased by that: St. Barts laboratory had more advanced devices, and a highly functional fire system, although he couldn't imagine that the staff would let him conduct his analysis wearing pajamas and a silk dressing-gown...and Dr. Hooper wouldn't shout at him to stop because he was contaminating the air: mousy Molly would just sigh, and return to her work, too shy to complain.

What Sherlock Holmes couldn't predict was that the Molly Hooper who helped him to fake his death, who lied to John, Lestrade and Mrs Hudson, who cried at his funeral and continued to tell all the journalists that she believed in Sherlock Holmes, was not the same Molly Hooper who welcomed him back to London after 2 years of dismantling Moriarty's web. Molly Hooper 2.0 was still gentle, but determined; quiet, but not submissive; this new woman treated the great Sherlock Holmes like he was another ordinary man.

At first Sherlock had been surprised, then he found her current behavior an affront to his persona; finally, the consulting detective decided that Molly Hooper's change of mind was something worth of a further investigation.

He noticed that she had started to cure her outward appearance: nothing out of ordinary, just more frequent visits to her hairdresser, a touch of blusher on her cheeks, more skirts and less khaki trousers at work. She still remained at the morgue till late if requested, but every friday she carried with her a backpack with an extra set of clothes, to be ready to change for the weekly evening's aperitif with her girlfriends Julie, Adele and Josephine.

The thing that disturbed him more was that those were only the consequences; now the pathologist was more aesthetically attractive, and assertive. But why ? What could cause such a dramatic transformation in her attitude towards him ? Sherlock had returned six months ago, and he still had no answer to his question; but now, for the first time in weeks, he had a lead. Molly Hooper, the docile and sympathetic woman who counted, had a romantic interest. A  _new_  romantic interest . A romantic interest that was not Sherlock Holmes.

He knew he should feel relief at his discovery: no more unrequited attentions, no more furtive glances when he was working at the microscope, no more distractions when she stammered and couldn't form a simple sentence when he asked her something. The detective in him felt the familiar sensation of triumph, the same excitement he welcomed every time he solved a puzzle; but at the end, something was still missing. The certainty of his finding didn't leave him satisfied;  _au contraire_ , as John Watson would have said, he was really pissed off.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know your opinions, and thanks for reading !


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steve Moffat, Mark Gatiss own Sherlock and his realm. I just own my computer,my version of Openoffice, and my sick fantasies. English is not my native language, please forgive the mistakes and the typos.

John returned to St. Barts , after the lunch with his fiancé, completely drained. Every opinion he had expressed about the ceremony had been ignored by Mary: after a long discussion, he had agreed to have one more flower girl, to change the colour theme of the wedding (purple and beige instead of bordeaux), and to buy a new and larger cabinet for the bathroom.

The last thing he wanted to find in the morgue was a sulking Sherlock Holmes. Molly was verifying some data at the computer, sometimes moving daintily across the room to retrieve something in her office. Sherlock was glaring at her. Usually he looked at her like she was another furniture in the room, instead now John Watson could actually see him shooting daggers at her.  _"Molly must have done something atrocious, like forbidding him to experiment on some virus, or to sew a head and put it in a vinegary solution - and now he's plotting his revenge"_ John assumed. He decided that the direct approach would be the best, and asked "What did you do this time, Sherlock ?". John's words didn't stop Sherlock's attempt to burn a hole in the pathologist's nape with only the power of his hatred - he only shrugged and muttered something unintelligible. John caught only some words: "St. Bart's", and "list of male doctors".

"Did Lestrade call you about a new case ? Because he didn't ring me..." the doctor inquired, rather confused.

Sherlock looked at him with an annoyed expression, spat out a quick and firm "No", then focused his attention again on Molly Hooper .

"Then why do we need a list of male doctors here at St. Barts ?" John insisted, really at loss now. During all those years, he had seen Sherlock gave Molly nothing more than quick glances, and only when he needed something from her that could be either urgent, or slightly illegal, or both. The clever consulting detective deduced her only when he wanted some information to use later to cruelly tear her apart or flatter her - sometimes he was able to do both in a minute, making her blush and then leaving her a moment later on the verge of tears. Oddly , right now, it seemed that the pathologist's back was the most interesting thing in the world to Sherlock Holmes.

 _"If Sherlock were an ordinary man, I would say that he's interested in her..."_  Dr. Watson pondered, but quickly dismissed the thought: Sherlock Holmes could be described using a lot of words - he was a genius, a sociopath, a loyal friend -, but he was not ordinary. He was surely as mature as a man-child, considering that he was giving to everyone in the morgue - well, to Molly and him - the silent treatment at the moment. John decided it was wiser not to test his best friend's thin patience : the wedding was only a month away, he was planning to ask Sherlock to be his best man, and didn't want a negative answer.

"Well, listen, I'm going back to Baker Street - do you remember if there's still some milk in the fridge ?". Still no answer. Typical.  _"The day Sherlock Holmes will remember about buying milk, the human race will be extinct "_ \- " See you at home when you'll succeed into making Molly 's head explode by spontaneous combustion..." he muttered to his colleague; John shouted a "Goodbye Molly!" and after the pathologist greeted him back with a tired smile, he left the morgue.

* * *

Molly Hooper could sense Sherlock's gaze on her. She had no telepathic powers-she simply caught him glaring at her the moment she left her office after the phone call with her friend Julie. Honestly,she didn't care: he could be bothered by the fact that her voice while speaking at the phone was too loud or too nasal, or because Lestrade hadn't called him yet with a new case - whatever the reason was, she was not interested. Molly Hooper wanted to finish that awful report, send it to Mike and go home to have a relaxing bath with a lot of bubbles.

The pathologist heard John and Sherlock bickering like an old couple - well, it was John speaking and Sherlock grunting -, and then the ex-army doctor left the morgue,after a quick "Goodbye!". Just a few minutes after that, she remembered the shopping bag in her office that she was supposed to return to Mary. She could ask Sherlock to bring it to John, but she internally snorted: first, Sherlock Holmes was completely hopeless with menial tasks-she didn't want to risk lose the content of the bag only because the great 12 years old consulting detective had grown bored and abandoned it in an alley; second, she didn't want him to see the contents of the bag - it was something personal, and even if in the past months Sherlock's harsh words didn't hurt her anymore, she still didn't need to hear them at the end of a long and tiring shift.

Another hour passed, both Molly and Sherlock silent; finally at 4 o'clock the calm was broken by the sound of a swishing coat and the following loud bang of the doors - Molly turned and found that, as always, Sherlock went away without saying "Goodbye" or at least "Thanks".  _"Nothing new here..."_ she thought, and resumed her work.

* * *

Sherlock Holmes couldn't stay in the same room with the annoying Molly Hooper one second more. She had remained silent, and oblivious to his glares all the time; not a word, an offer of help or to bring him coffee. Nothing. It wasn't right. Everyone knows how bad he dealt with changes: first John decided to marry Miss Morstan, who was quite smart and sarcastic, he could admit it, but nonetheless would take his blogger away from him; then Mrs Hudson told her tenants that after John's wedding she was going to a cruise with her cousin; and now mousy Molly's attention was focused on someone else. It was unacceptable! Intolerable! She was not supposed to do that...he had explicitly forbidden her to engage in any romantic relationships, seen her past failures and her atrocious taste in men. A little voice in his head told him that he was an example of said taste, but he quickly dismissed the thought: for the sake of London and all the United Kingdom, he had to find who else had stolen Molly Hooper's heart.

Sherlock quickly hailed a cab and during the travel time he summarised tha few clues he had:  _a doctor, uses a cane so he must have some motor defiency, he was a surgeon but now he doesn't perform anymore, stubble , handsome..._ while all the previous features were quite objective, the last one was rather personal: what did Molly find handsome ? The detective knew for sure that she had liked him for a long time, so probably he could say that tall, dark haired and light eyed men were the ones she would prefer.

He arrived at 221B Baker Street inclined to borrow - read: steal - John's laptop to research tall, limping and unshaved male at St. Barts ( just to begin, he couldn't exclude yet the other hospitals in London), but unfortunately the doctor/blogger was already using it.

" I need your laptop. Now".

John raised his head. " What for ?".

" I need it, John, isn't it enough to you ?" Sherlock replied, already annoyed.

" Go and fetch yours - I'm using mine to finish an important task, so use your feet an-" Sherlock interrupted him " You're booking your honeymoon - dull. I'm trying to save the lives of thousands of innocent people". The last sentence caught immediately the attention of the good doctor.

"Don't tell me Moriarty is back, please...". John just wanted to marry his beloved fiancé, spend an exciting honeymoon in Paris - yes, he knew it was a quite common destination, but he was an hopeless romantic - and return to London safe and sound.  _" Am I asking too much ? I just want to relax for a few months, with my wife, in my new apartment..."._

" Worse" was Sherlock's laconic answer.

" What is worse than another criminal psychopath ?" John cried.

" Molly Hooper is in love. And before you say anything, no it's not me. Not anymore".


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steve Moffat, Mark Gatiss own Sherlock and his realm. I just own my computer,my version of Openoffice, and my sick fantasies. English is not my native language, please forgive the mistakes and the typos.

John Watson's first reaction to Sherlock's statement was a giggle. Well, it was inaccurate. It started as an innocent giggle, but when the former soldier caught the outraged expression on the consulting detective face, he started to laugh. It was a proper belly laugh, and John didn't seem to be able stop. It had been a long time since he had laughed like that: surely it had happened before Sherlock's false death, maybe when Donovan, Anderson, Lestrade and others at NSY gave the infuriating man the infamous deerstalker ."Could you...could you repeat,ple...please ?" He said, a hint of amusement still in his words.

Sherlock Holmes was absolutely offended by his friend's reaction. How could he not understand the seriousness of the situation ? Yes, John was still an idiot sometimes, he needed some more training...

" I said..." Sherlock took a long breath " that Molly Hooper is in love with someone, and it's really dangerous - we should make an end of this liason as soon as we can. It's a matter of national security".

" How ?" was Watson exasperated answer. " How could Molly's love life affect the lives of poor innocent people ?"

" Well, she dated Moriarty, and before him that sordid lawyer who was incriminated for fraud, so clearly she has a kink for criminals...".

John shook his head " I don't know a thing about the lawyer, but Moriarty was not her fault. He used her, like...". John stopped, but Sherlock finished his sentence.

" Like me ?". His voice was low, and the doctor picked a hint of regret in his tone.

" Yes, like you - and anyway, you're wrong. Molly may be unlucky, or better: her taste in men is not flawless, but she dated some kind and respectful men, too. Sometimes relationships dont' work, that's all." John continued to defend the pathologist.

Now Sherlock was intrigued: John had started to blink more frequently , and his fingers were typing slower on the laptop's keyboard after years, he could see the clues even blind. He was hiding something.

" Like who ?".

Silence.

" John...".

Still stubborn silence.

" I will find out anyway, John...".

John raised his head, but didn't say anything; he just gave Sherlock the laptop and moved to his armchair to read the newspaper . _"Another puzzle...but now back to the task!"_ the consulting detective was ready to find out the identity of the mysterious man who had stolen Molly's Hooper's heart - and diverted her attention from him, most importantly. Half an hour later, Sherlock's frustrated shrieks interrupted his flatmate's quiet reading.

" This database is useless ! " he shouted, and then he started to punch the laptop.

" Sherlock, stop ! It's mine ! This is the third one you broke, why can't you behave like an adult ?" . John approached him and noticed that luckily tha laptop was still functioning. " Would you tell me what are you looking for ? Maybe I can help..." he offered.

" A list of male doctors at St. Barts, to start with it".

"Well, I don't think it will be difficult...but why are you looking for male doctors at the hospital ? Is Molly's new boyfriend a doctor ?".

Sherlock glared at him. " He's not his boyfriend...".

" Yet" John threw in.

Another homicidal glare. " Please refrain from predict the future, John".

John Watson smirked. " Any other information ?".

" Male, probably tall, unshaved, uses a walking stick so he's probably walking with a limp...".

John listened carefully : there was something familiar in Sherlock's description, but he couldn't put a finger on it. He shrugged and said " I don't think that you can find this kind of information on the hospital's database...Anyway, how do you know all this ? You eavesdropped her conversation on the phone, didn't you ? This is not a polite thing to do, Sherlock..." John started to censure his behaviour, but Sherlock glared at him " You did the same thing, John, so don't lecture me".

John blushed , but continued "How are you supposed to find him, you can't start to stalk every male doctor at St. Barts, you kn-".

John stopped when he saw Sherlock stood up, taking his coat and scarf and approaching the door. " Sherlock, no ! You can't do that !".

" Why not ? Oh, you were thinking I should ask Mycroft's help, weren't you ? With his control of every CCTV in London, it should be quite an easy task, I suppose...but no, I think I will do it by myself,thanks for the suggestion ! " Sherlock smiled coyly and started to open the door.

" Stop, Sherlock ! It's insane ! And anyway, when did Molly's love interests become so important to you ? She doesn't count to you... " That sentence had the effect John was hoping for. The consulting detective froze and turned towards him, very slowly.

" You're wrong" Sherlock declared, his voice steady and low. "She counts. She saved my life , John".

" So you're doing all this out of gratitude ? Because she helped you faking your death ? " John asked.

Sherlock hesitated. It would have been so easy to say yes, that he was doing it only because Molly Hooper was her friend, a dear friend who had always believed in him, even when he treated her like an idiot, when he insulted her and manipulated her feelings, and he wanted only to return the favor, be sure that this guy was right for her and then leave her live her life, and be happy for her. He knew it wasn't the truth. He was an egotist, he wanted Molly's attention on him, and not divided between him and another man. Why ? _Why do I want it, now ?_ Sherlock asked himself.

John observed the man before him; he could sense he was troubled, and he felt bad for the words he said. It was true, Sherlock had used Molly's affection for him several times, to gain something - free rein at the morgue, mostly - but not lately - because Sherlock was gentler with her, not only because Molly didn't let him do it. She was indeed stronger now, probably because of this new man in her life. Now Sherlock Holmes was just another man - a clever man, but a man, nonetheless , who had no power on her. Not anymore.

" I'm sorry, Sherlock, I didn't want to-" John started to apologize, but Sherlock raised a hand ." You're right, I used her , and I never thanked her . I want to do something to show her my gratitude, that's it ".

" By stalking her future boyfriend ?" John asked, a little amused. " I mean, if you put it this way, I can quite understand your strange behaviour, but...".

" But what ? There's no other way to put it." Sherlock retorted.

" Are you sure ? Are you completely sure that this is the only reason you're doing all this ?" the doctor inquired.

" What are you trying to imply, John ? ".

" I mean, it's the timing...".

" Not good ? " Sherlock asked.

John smirked, remembering all the times he had scolded the man-child about his poor timing. " Well, it's quite suspicious...you start to care about her love life just when she starts to treat you like an ordinary man, so it's natural to think...".

" To think what, John ? I'm starting to become rather annoyed with your nasty habit to not finish your sentences, so please, explain to me: what is my hidden agenda ? And before you answer, remember: I'm a lot of things, but not ordinary ".

" Yes, of course : you're an extraordinary man, and you love when people praise your intelligence, your acumen,...and Molly  _was -_  he stressed the word - one of your most dedicated fangirl, and so it's probably very disturbing to you that she changed her mind, isn't it ? " John knew Sherlock was a narcissist, but he was starting to see something different in his friend: he just needed to prod him for a little while, to let him admit what he suspected.

" You're saying that I'm an egomaniac, so this is your opinion ? After what I said to you about Dr. Hooper - a published author, John, not an american cheerleader, by the way - , this is your conclusion ? " Sherlock Holmes was now tired of this discussion: he was only wasting time, while Molly was alone at the morgue...or maybe not alone. Maybe she was already in the company of her mysterious doctor. He needed to leave Baker Street and go to the hospital, immediately. The detective approached the door again and opened it hastily; he was on the stairs, when John's voice reached him.

" Do you still want to know the name of the nice guy Molly dated when you were "dead" ?".

For the second time that day, Dr. Watson saw his best friend froze. He didn't wait for him to open his mouth to continue " It's Greg".

John Watson had never seen Sherlock's face crumple in confusion like that, or his neck turning so fast . He could actually see the sentence " Who the fuck is Greg ? " displayed on his forehead.

" Greg . As in Greg Lestrade. DI Gregory Lestrade" he explained finally.

" Lestrade. She dated Lestrade. Molly Hooper dated Lestrade." John didn't know how many times Sherlock needed to repeat the concept to let it finally sink in his mind, but he didn't want to hear any other version of the sentence.

" Yes. They went out two or three times. Does it bother you ?"

Sherlock was silent.  _"Does it bother me ?" ._ If someone would have asked him the same question six months ago, when he was still hunting down Moriarty's web, his answer would have been a sure "No". What about now ? Now the mere thought of Molly dating Lestrade months ago, and the awareness that another man was succeeding in stealing her from him - _" did I really used this expression"_ he asked to himself , rather disgusted _-_ made him feel something _._  Something the mighty Sherlock Holmes had never felt . If only he could understand what it was !

" Sherlock ? Are you ok ?" John asked to him, and Sherlock became aware that his hands were clenched into fists.

" Yes. And if you would excuse me, I have som-". The sound of John's mobile ringing interrupted him. The doctor ran back into the living room to retrieve it, and Sherlock strangely didn't storm out like he intended to do, because the first words John said while answering the phone were " Molly ! Oh yes, don't worry, I'm coming - just give me twenty minutes! See you later, bye !"

John Watson took his jacket and passed his flatmate on the stairs. " Do me a favor, Sherlock. Don't go to Scotland Yard to harass poor Lestrade. And please, don't follow me at St. Barts. Stay here, let Mrs Hudson make you a cup of tea, and wait for me, because the discussion isn't over. Do you think you can do that ?". He waited for his friend to nod, and then John went outside.

Only when he was sure the door was closed behind him, he smirked. John Watson was not Sherlock Holmes, but he had solved the mystery of Molly Hooper's mysterious guy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know your opinions, and thanks for reading !


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steve Moffat, Mark Gatiss own Sherlock and his realm. I just own my computer,my version of Openoffice, and my sick fantasies. English is not my native language, please forgive the mistakes and the typos.

When John arrived at St. Barts, Molly was still in the laboratory reviewing the text results. She looked really tired, but John was sure she wouldn't leave the hospital until she had finished her work: she was so dedicated to her job, that sometimes the army doctor thought her commitment to her profession could rival Sherlock's.

" Hello Molly, I'm here !" John called her trying not to startle her, and she smiled to him. " Oh, John, I'm so sorry ! I'm so concentrated on this report, that I didn't notice you coming in - I'm going to take the bag and then you can go back home!". Molly hurried to her office, and John thought that besides the fact that Molly was more assertive with Sherlock, she was still the gentle, considerate and generous woman he had met after becoming Sherlock Holmes' flatmate and colleague. " There's no need to hurry, Molly - I have to go to Mary's anyway, and St. Barts is on the way, so it's not an inconvenience to me..." he said while following her.

" You're really kind, John, I promised to Mary that I would return tis things to her today, but I think I will have to stay here till late, so you're doing me a big favour!" Molly ranted a bit, but John quickly stopped her " Molly, there's no need to thank me again - besides, I wanted to ask you something: are you free next Friday ?"

" Well, I have my usual apéritif with my friends, but I can postpone it, why ?"

John fidgeted with the handles of the shopping bag Molly had given him " Well, Mary and I finally bought a flat for ourselves, and we wanted to have our first dinner there with our friends, to inaugurate it - it's gonna be a small thing, only close friends : you, Sherlock , Greg, Mike, Mrs Hudson, my sister Harry...".

" John, congratulations ! I will be glad to attend, really".

John's mobile rang at the moment and after looking at it, he quicky answered " Watson".

Molly could hear only one part of the conversation, but she could detect that the other person was surely distressed.

" He did what ?! I told him to stay home, he's...he's just a- Ok, Greg, I will wait for him here at St. Barts, thanks for calling, and I'm sorry about his behaviour - yes, he's stranger than usual, I know, I live with the guy! Ok, bye!".

" Do you need help with your report ? I think Sherlock is coming here, and he may be in need of our medical ability...".

* * *

When John told him to stay home, Sherlock was still shocked by the fact that Lestrade -  _Greg ? Was his name Greg ? What a stupid name !_  - had dated his pathologist -  _not my pathologist , she's a pathologist !_  he scolded his mind for the slip - to offer a rebuttal. He returned in the flat, and still with the coat and the scarf on, he decided to analyze the situation. DI Lestrade, one of the men he thought was a friend, had dated Molly Hooper. Repeating the concept didn't make it easier to cope with it. How could he ? And most important, how could she ?! Lestrade was quite his complete opposite: dull, with a dull life, and a dull wife, and dull children...wait a minute, was Lestrade still married when he dated Molly ? Did Molly know about his cheating wife ? Of course she knew, they talked about that during the famous Christmas party when he dissected her present to him thinking that it was for another man...maybe finally Lestrade - Greg - and his wife divorced, and Greg thought :  _"Oh, there's Sherlock's sweet pathologist, maybe I can have fun with her..."_ This time Sherlock was so angry that he didn't realize that he had called Molly his pathologist for the second time in a few minutes , and then...his mobile vibrated, announcing a new text.

NEW CASE. DOUBLE HOMICIDE. WAITING FOR YOU AT NSY- GL

"So that's what the G is for..." the consulting detective pondered. In a minute he was out on the street hailing a cab, and ten minutes later, he was storming into Lestrade's office.

" Good afternoon Sherlock, I'm very glad you're here because-".

Sherlock gave him a withering look . " When did you date Dr. Hooper ? Before or after your divorce ?".

" Well, I and Vivian-" Lestrade started

" Vivian and I. Keep going.".

" Vivian and I" the detective glared at the tall man sitting in front of him " divorced one year ago. I went out with Molly shortly after that".

" Why ?".

Greg was confused. " Why what ?".

" Why did you date Dr. Hooper- are you deaf or simply an idiot ?!" Sherlock shouted.

" Mate, I think you should calm down..." Greg started, but Sherlock got up and curved over the desk. " Was it good ?".

" Sherlock, I don't understand...are you on drugs again ? Because I though I made myself clear the last tim-".

" Why did you date my pathologist?! Give me an answer, now!" this time Sherlock roared, and Lestrade lost his patience.

" Because I was lonely, and I needed someone...Molly was there for me, and we thought to try to date, and then...".

" So you used her to forget your wife ? Because she was available, free and easy ?"

" Sherlock, I don't like the way this discussion-"

" You thought " Well, let's take a ride on mousy Mol-" Lestrade's first fist hit him just under his left eye, and made him lose his balance and impact his face on the wall.

Sherlock recovered quickly, but Lestrade was already over him, gripping the collar of his expensive coat. " Don't you dare talk about Molly like that. Don't do that. Ever. Again". The consulting detective spat blood; some blood was on the wall, too.

" We went to the pub. Twice . Then to the restaurant. Once. No kissing, no holding hands. No sex, if that's what you're afraid of".

" I'm not afraid. I just wanted-"

" You tell me why, Sherlock. Why do you want to know about Molly and me ?".

Silence.

" I suggest to you to go to the hospital. I don't like people bleeding in my office".

Sherlock was already halfway out of his office, when Lestrade's voice reached him again. " We discovered that we were both still in love with someone else. We were just two friends spending time together".

Sherlock wasn't aware he was holding his breath until he let it out, at the end of Lestrade's speech.

* * *

When Sherlock arrived at St. Barts. he found his blogger and Molly in the laboratory working together on some notes.

" Sherlock ! " both exclaimed, and rushed to him. " Molly, would you please bring me an emergency kit ?" John said sternly, eyeing his friend. Molly scurried away, leaving the two men alone.

" Are you okay ?" John asked with concern.

Sherlock winced before talking. " It's not bad as it may seem". John smiled tightly, then punched him on the shoulder.

" Ah- that hurts !" the consultant detective started, but John interrupted him. " What did I tell you ? Don't harass Lestrade, don't follow me at St. Barts...and voilà, you managed to do exactly what I asked you not to do ! How can you be at the same time a genius, and a complete moron, tell me ?! When I'll come back home, we're gonna finish our discussion, and prepare yourself: it will be a looong discussion, Sherlock...".

" What do you mean ? You're coming home with me now, aren't you ?".

" No Sherlock, now I'm going to meet my dear fiancè, and you're gonna stay here until Molly returns to take care of your eye and your split lip...".

" You can do that !" Sherlock whined.

" I just told you that I can't...and now I see Molly is coming- Goodbye Sherlock !" John shouted while exiting the room.

When Molly Hooper opened the laboratory's doors, she found Sherlock seated on a bench, the perfect picture of apathy.

" John told me that he had a date with Mary, and asked me to help you . So, what happened ?" Molly told asked, but Sherlock didn't react. She checked his face .

" Well, it's not that bad . Take the dry ice and put it under your eyes, while I check your lip..." she handed him the blue bag containing the ice, and Sherlock did as she told him, without a word. She turned to find the salve in the emergency kit, when he heard him speaking.

" The last time you did this was the day I came back, when I arrived at Baker Street and-".

" And John punched you in the face. Twice. You were worse back then, he nearly broke your nose...poor John...".

" Poor John ?! Poor _John_  ?! I had to wear that hideous mask on my face for ten days, and then John posted the pictures on his blog..." Sherlock said, bewildered.

" Oh, yes, I remember the pictures ! It was brilliant...and you were hilarious !" Molly's laugh was bright and clear. It wasn't a foreign sound to his ears, he was quite used to hear her giggling after one of her jokes or while she was speaking to John and mary, or to Lestrade... _Greg_...but it was the first time that she was laughing with him -more precisely, of him ; he didn't feel offended by that, rather he was glad to be the one who had made her laugh.

While Sherlock was thinking about her, Molly realized that she was still laughing, and stopped abruptly. She put a small drop of salve on his lower lip, and distanced herself from the consulting detective.

" Here, like new - John will control properly your eye at home, I presume...".

Sherlock looked her in the eyes. " Molly, when did you stop stammering ?".

The pathologist broke eye contact before answering . " I don't remember, Sherlock; it happened ".

" You're lying".

" No, I'm not ! " Molly shouted outraged.

" Yes you are. You are twitching your nose - a quite imperceptible movement, but not for me; and your voice is higher. Why are you lying to me, Molly ?".

The woman glared at him. " It was the day you asked me to help you. That day, when you said to me that I was seeing you, it was true. For the first time, I truly saw you, and I understood I had no reason to stutter anymore."

" Why ?".

" Because that day was the day my crush for you died, Sherlock; I was finally aware that I was no longer infatuated, because I-".

" Molly, are you ready for the meeting ?". The shrill voice of Matthew Carter, St. Barts head pathologist, interrupted Molly's speech.

" Yes, Dr. Carter - I'm coming !". The pathologist gave Sherlock a weary smile, and touched the hand that was still supporting the dry ice pack. " See you soon, Sherlock" and with that she was gone.

* * *

One hour later, when he came home, John found Sherlock in his pajamas and dressing gown, curled on the sofa.

" Sherlock, stop pretending you're sleeping. We need to talk".

Sherlock didn't reply, only grunted something unintelligible.

" I don't care if you're tired, or if your cheekbone hurts . You deserved every punch Lestrade gave you, and you know it". John reprimanded him, still without an answer from his flat-mate. John shrugged and went to take his laptop; after a few seconds, Sherlock heard John opening the disc case and then his colleague literally lift him up and made him sit on the couch, putting the laptop on Sherlock thighs.

" Listen me carefully, because I don't want to repeat myself. You're gonna watch this dvd, from the beginning until the end." Sherlock began to get up, but John stopped him. "Sit down, and stay here - I want you to watch it all, and don't you dare to speak ! I don't want to hear any witty remark, any harsh word, unless they're coming from the television, do you understand me ?".

"But John…".

"No buts ! Do I have to gag you ?!".

"…and then you wonder why the people always think we are a couple…".

* * *

John remained with Sherlock for ten minutes, to be sure he was not escaping. When he saw his best friend calm, and quite engrossed with what he was watching, he left the room and started texting Mary.

I NEED YOU TO CONFIRM TO MOLLY THAT WE ARE GIVING A DINNER AT OUR NEW FLAT NEXT FRIDAY - JW

WHEN DID YOU DECIDE IT, JOHN ? - MM

I WILL TELL YOU LATER. JUST TELL MOLLY WE ARE GONNA INVITE OUR CLOSE FRIENDS - JW

I HAVE A FEELING THAT YOU'RE PLOTTING SOMETHING, MR. WATSON, AND THAT YOUR CONSULTING MORON IS INVOLVED. OK, I'LL DO IT - MM

MAY I ASK WHAT ARE WE REALLY DOING NEXT FRIDAY, DARLING ? -MM

YOU AND I, WE ARE SPENDING OUR LAST NIGHT ALONE AT BAKER STREET - JW

MOLLY AND SHERLOCK INSTEAD ARE GONNA SPEND THE NIGHT LOCKED IN OUR NEW FLAT. - JW


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steve Moffat, Mark Gatiss own Sherlock and his realm. I just own my computer,my version of Openoffice, and my sick fantasies. English is not my native language, please forgive the mistakes and the typos.

Two hours and three episodes later , John finally stopped the dvd and took the laptop from Sherlock's knees. " Are you ready ?" he asked his friend, but Sherlock remained silent . " Alright, I wanted to give you a choice, but since you're insisting into behaving like a twelve years old child, let's do it my way " the army doctor started. " Now, tell me : what do you think about the dvd I made you watch ? ".

Sherlock turned towards the former army doctor . " Do you really expect me to give you an answer ?".

" Yes, and I think there's something you need to tell me first. Come on , Sherlock, I know it's hard but you have to say it ".

" We both know what you want me to say, so why bother saying it ?" Sherlock complained.

" Because I want to hear you say it, that's why . Say it, Sherlock..." John almost pleaded .

The consulting detective muttered something, then he stood up and sat down on his armchair.

" I couldn't hear it, would you please repeat it ?" John smirked, and heard a grumble and a few obscenities come from his flat-mate. " For once, Sherlock, say it just once, and then I will leave you alone ".

Still no response from the man-child . John decide to use the final weapon . " If you say it, I will delete all the pictures I took of you with that strange mask on your nose".

" Useless . You put them on your blog, there are copies everywhere on the internet ".

" Alright, then I will truly and finally forgive you for faking your death and making me suffer for two years, letting me believe you were dead ".

Sherlock's head turned very quickly, and he scrutinized closely his friend . " I thought you already forgave me ".

" Not completely . You didn't trust me, Sherlock ".

" You know damn well that I couldn't tell you anything. And you know why I did what I did . For whom I did it ".

John looked at him . He knew Sherlock faked his suicide to protect him , and Mrs Hudson , and Lestrade : the logical part of his mind accepted it many months ago, and he was grateful for his sacrifice; but there was still a tiny little part of his heart that reminded him of the fact that in the most miserable day of his life , Sherlock Holmes didn't go to him , asking for help. He went to Molly Hooper, the mousy pathologist, the one person neither he, nor Moriarty (luckily ) could suspect of helping the man she was infatuated of, to die .

" I'm offering you my complete forgiveness . Now tell me ".

Sherlock huffed , and with a dramatic sigh, finally said " You solved the mistery of Molly Hooper's mysterious doctor. Now, can we stop with this ridicolous nonsense or do you want an applause, too ?".

John smirked and said " Of course not. I told you before at St. Barts that we need to talk , and that's what we are going to do now, my dear friend . So, how do you feel now that you know that your rival is a fictional character ?".

" I don't feel, John; I repeated this concept a lot , I was hoping it had finally taken residence in your placid mind " Sherlock retorted .

John Watson approached him and sat on his armchair . " Stop it . We both know that it's not true. You have a heart , and before you say anything, Greg ,and Martha Hudson ,and I are the living proof that you're more than capable to feel things . Now, your impressions on the dvd ".

" Mediocre acting. Absurd plot . And the solutions to the medical cases are all wrong, I hope you agree with me on that...".

" Yes, sometimes they are...but back to the fact that the main character is basically YOU!".

Sherlock shrugged . " He deduces diseases . I deduce everything ".

" Yes, and you're both arrogant, misanthropic , narcissist and cynic genius ! Don't you see it ? "John asked, really excited.

" Do I see what, John ? " Sherlock retorted .

" He's you, Sherlock ! ".

" Don't be silly, John . I'm real. He's not ".

John was starting to lose his patience . " Sherlock, Gregory-" the doctor saw his best friend grimacing when he pronounced the name, but continued " Gregory House is Molly's mysterious doctor . Mary gave her the first six series on dvd . She has a crush on a character that he's basically you , a little older and maybe more-".

" More what ? ".

" I was saying more handsome, but hey, it's only Molly's taste in men...".

" He's always unshaved , he has no sense of style and plus that, the actor impersonating him could be Molly's father ".

" Hey, stop! You can't insult Hugh Laurie ! He's a national treasure !" John shouted, indignant .

" Hugh Laurie ? Is that his name ? It's ridiculous " Sherlock declared.

" Says the man named Sherlock...look, how can you be so clever and at the same time such a colossal moron ? Molly didn't replace you with another man , she just pointed her attentions on something that reminds her of you . How can you be jealous of a fictional character that is basically you ?!".

Sherlock stood up , a sense of finality in his voice . " I. Am . Not . Jealous ".

" Yes you are".

" No I'm not ".

" Yes you are ".

" No, I'm not and I don't intend to stay here to be offended by you like that!". Sherlock turned, heading towards his bedroom, when John spoke again .

" Then why did you go to Lestrade, earlier ? And by the way, you should apologise to him ".

Sherlock made a strange noise at the mention of apologies. He didn' t apologise. Well, unless that time to Molly, but that didn't count, because Molly didn't do anything wrong, except having a crush on him. Lestrade, on the other hand...well, he did something very wrong: he dated his pathologist.  _Don't call her that ! She's not your pathologist !_  " He sent me a text asking me to go to Scotland Yard".

" Yes, to speak about a new case, not to be accused of using Molly to forget his wife " John retorted.

Sherlock huffed and plopped on his armchair again, his hands soon under his chin in his famous prayer pose.

" Let me examine the clues . Go out " he instructed, and John reluctantly went back to the kitchen to retrieve his mobile . Before leaving the room , he asked Sherlock his final question. " Just try to picture this, while you are in your mind palace. Imagine Molly in another man's arms, and ask yourself what would you do to be him , just once. You don't need to know anything else, Sherlock ".

* * *

_**Three days later - Friday night** _

When John Watson had invited her to a dinner to celebrate Mary's and his new flat , Molly imagined it would be an informal reunion of friends and relatives . She even remembered John saying that it would be a small thing...but on Thursday, Mary called her saying that they were having a strange problem with their new kitchen, and so they had decided to have dinner at a restaurant, and then move to the flat later to have a few drinks . Before ending the phone call, Mary gave precise instruction on what to wear the next day . " It's going to be a little bit more formal than we thought...do you remember that dress you bought with me last month ? Well, I think it will be a good occasion to wear it, with those awesome peep toe pumps Julie brought to you from Italy...". Molly remembered those shoes very well : Julie found them during one of her shopping trip in Milan, and gave them to her with a coordinated clutch, saying that they were perfect for her, since they both had a metal skull on the top .

" If you say so..." Molly said to Mary, and now the pathologist was waiting for her friends in front a very exclusive restaurant in Marylebone . Greg was to the first to join her in her waiting; he was very dapper in his grey suit and deep red tie . After ten minutes , Sherlock, Harry and John Watson, Mary Morstan and Mrs Hudson arrived. It was a rather hot June evening, so Molly didn't bring any jacket , and so did the others. That's why she instantly understood why Mary Morstan had suggested her to wear her new dark purple sleeveless dress . Sherlock Holmes was wearing The Shirt . The infamous Purple Shirt . Molly decided to feign a complete indifference to her friend's trap, and started to greet everyone.

Before entering the restaurant, Sherlock approached Lestrade , taking him away from the others to speak privately .

" John brought to my attention that I should apologise to you. We both know I won't do it " the consulting detective began, and Greg snickered : the DI knew damn well that Sherlock's mouth was incapable of pronouncing the words " I'm sorry ".

" There's something I want to ask you, instead. Don't tell anything about what happened in your office, to Molly".

" Why should I do that ? ".

" Because both of us don't want her to suffer. I don't want to hurt her again, Lestrade ".

The DI heaved a sigh, and put one hand on the shoulder of the tall man in front of him. " We can't avoid hurting the people we love, Sherlock. The important thing is to be the ones who can mend them after all the suffering ". With those words, Greg left him and joined his friends ; after a few minutes, they were all ready to enojoy their fine dinner at the _Cotidie_  .


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steve Moffat, Mark Gatiss own Sherlock and his realm. I just own my computer,my version of Openoffice, and my sick fantasies. English is not my native language, please forgive the mistakes and the typos.

_Cotidie_  was a very exclusive restaurant : well situated, not far from Baker Street , and from its appearance, probably quite pricey . The setting was informal, but very chic; dark floor, grey walls , soft lights ; the interior designers had opted for something modern, but very elegant . There weren't many other diners, but the group of friends didn't feel overlooked by the attentive waiters .

Molly started to look around her . "It's so trendy...it seems a rather exclusive restaurant - how did you-".

Sherlock,who was sitting on her left side , interrupted her musings . " Mycroft . He knew the chef , and he still owns me a lot of favors - thought it could be a good occasion to cash one of them, making him reserve a table here and making him pay for our dinner, of course..." . Molly nodded, and then she started to speak with Lestrade, who was sitting on her right . Sherlock took the opportunity to observe her . She had decided to let her hair down , and he could recognize her pomegranate shampoo; she had  opted for a light make-up, only mascara and trasparent lipgloss; the dress was new, never dressed before , and it complemented her figure, and her skin tone ; shoes and clutch seemed very expensive, maybe a present from her friend who worked in that fashion magazine - they had golden metal skulls on top, and it reminded him of Molly's bad jokes about her working at the morgue .

" Are you ready to order ?" . A waiter appeared from apparently nowhere, and smiled at the group of friends . Sherlock directed his attention to him : twenty-five, third week working there , still living with his parents , and probably bisexual , since he was ogling both Lestrade and Molly... _and there they went his chances to have a big tip at the end of dinner_  .

" Yes" Sherlock answered , completely ignoring John's attempt to acknowledge the waiter's request . " For starters, the octopus salad with crushed potatoes and the basil infused oil - mind you, we want it lukewarm , not cold or too warm . Then the handmade gnocchi with squid, cherry tomatoes and taggiasche olives ; as main course, the Angus beef tagliata with pepper , grilled savoy cabbage and borretane onions- I hope you cook them with balsamic vinegar, do you ? " The waiter simply nodded, and the consulting detective continued " Perfect. And for dessert, the wild red berries bavarese with white chocolate sauce " .

" And for the others ?" the waiter dared to ask .

" We will have the same dishes; I considered all their allergies, intolerance and aversions , so the order will be identical for all of us " Sherlock instructed, and the others quickly realised that Sherlock's order was perfect for everyone, indeed.

" Have you already been here before, Sherlock ?" Mrs Hudson was the first to recover from the shock of seeing Sherlock Holmes, the man who could stay without eating for four entire days without passing out, ordering the entire meal for all of them . It was obviously a really arrogant gesture, but they all knew who their friends was , so none had even tried to stop him .

" Of course not, Mrs Hudson, I simply read the menu , obviously faster than you all can do..." his tablemates shook their heads at the typical Sherlock's retort , but Harry Watson added " But John always tells me that you don't eat...are you really eating an entire meal tonight ?" . Sherlock didn't even deign to give her an answer, and focused his attention again on the waiter .

John decided to step in . " Sherlock doesn't eat when he's on a case...the digestion slows him down, he says...but just a few days ago , we solved a big case, so now he doesn't have any excuse to skip meals ".

" Which case ? I didn't call you..." Lestrade asked, with curiosity . He hadn't met the consulting detective since his scuffle with him .

" Do you really believe I only work when Scotland Yard asks for my indispensable assistance ,  _Greg_  ?" Sherlock mocked him , and John said " It's classified . And I solved it, not Sherlock " he concluded, beaming .

" About the wine-" the waiter asked .

Lestrade interrupted him " Can I at least choose the wine, Sherlock ?"

" I don't know , can you ,  _Greg_  ?" Sherlock sneered .

" Come on, Sherlock, let Greg choose our wine ; he took oenology lessons last year, didn't you, Greg ?" Molly supplied, eager to not let argument escalate .

" Well,since Lestrade is such an expert..." the consulting detective derided him , and from the corner of his eyes he noted Molly subtly frowning .

" With the starters , we would like a bottle of Pinot Gris , and then a Bordeaux with the main course..." Sherlock's loud snort stopped Lestrade, who turned towards him , obviously frustrated . " What now, Sherlock !?"

" Nothing , it's all fine...aside from your completely wrong order...French wines with an italian meal " Sherlock muttered and made a gesture towards the waiter, " Gavi with the appetizers ; Teroldego with the pasta and the main course ; and with the dessert , Moscato d'Asti and Franciacorta's Brut ". The waiter took note of all, but didn't move .

" What do you want ?" Sherlock asked exasperated , and Mrs Hudson scolded him . " Any- any cocktail before the starters ?" the young man stuttered , intimidated by Sherlock's aggressive attitude .

" May we order at least the cocktails by ourselves, Sherlock ?" John asked, and without waiting for a response, they ordered the aperitif . When Sherlock's turn arrived , the waiter asked " For you, Sir ?"

" A Molly " was Sherlock's answer .

" What !?" Molly Hooper exclaimed surprised, soon followed by the waiter. " Excuse me, Sir ?"

" A Milly , the seventh on your list...do you know at least the names of your cocktails ?" Sherlock ignored the stunned expressions on his friends' faces and reprimanded the innocent waiter, who tried to defend himself " Sir, you said Molly, not Milly..." .

" I didn't ".

" Sherlock , dear , this young man is right... you said Moll-".

" Mrs Hudson , I wasn't aware you were developing a problem with your hearing...".

" Sherlock, stop ! Now it's enough !" John Watson almost shouted; if he could , he would have slapped him .

The silence fell on the table; the waiter walked away, and none spoke until the appetizers arrived.

* * *

Before the dessert, Molly and Mary excused themselves and went to the bathroom .

"Nice dinner, isn't it ? " Mary asked while fixing her lipstick " Aside Sherlock being Sherlock, of course...".

Molly remained silent for a moment, then finally asked " Why did you tell me to wear this dress, Mary ?".

" It's a great dress, and it's perfect on you..." Mary answered, but Molly insisted " And the fact that Sherlock is wearing a shirt with the same shade is a perfect coincidence, isn't it ?".

" It is, indeed . I don't understand why you're all riled up like this ".

" Because it's ridiculous ! We look like two sixth graders who decided to coordinate their outfits before going to school".

" Or like a couple - You know, couples usually coordinate their outfit...John chooses his tie in the same colour of my dress, always".

" Mary, finally after years - and with a lot of encouragement and help from you - I'm taking control of my emotions around Sherlock , and now you are trying to sabotage me . Why ? ".

Mary simply laughed, and her attention returned to her lipstick .

Molly was still irritated , but decided to stop herself . Mary could be very annoying sometimes, and it seemed that tonight she wanted nothing more than to see her snap. " _Well, I won't give her this satisfaction...I have every intention to enjoy my bavarese_  !".

* * *

When they finished dinner , the group of friends found themselves in front of the restaurant, ready to leave .

" Before you go home, we want to invite you to see our new flat...it's just three blocks away..." John said, but his invitation met a sequence of refusal .

" I want to, John, but tomorrow I need to catch a plane at Heathrow at six o'clock " Harry started, soon followed by Mrs Hudson " Dear, my hip...I need to go home and have some herbal soothers ".

" Lestrade ?" Mary prompted , but the DI shook his head . "Sorry, I have to go to Vivian's and collect the kids...tomorrow it's my weekend with Simon and Jennifer - damn, it's already late ! Harry, Mrs Hudson , do you want to share a cab ?" he asked , already making one stop near them .

" Thank you, dear! Bye John, Mary - it's been a wonderful evening!" and after some hurried greetings, they left the soon-to-be married couple, Sherlock and Molly alone .

" You can't refuse...please ! Sherlock, you don't have a case , and Molly, tomorrow is your free day ! It's going to be very fast , just a little tour of the flat and then you will both be free! " John begged them, and Sherlock and Molly reluctantly agreed, without noticing the subtle wink the former army doctor gave at his fiancé .


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steve Moffat, Mark Gatiss own Sherlock and his realm. I just own my computer,my version of Openoffice, and my sick fantasies. English is not my native language, please forgive the mistakes and the typos.

Mary and John's new flat was...adequate, in Sherlock's opinion. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a modern kitchen, a bright and airy living room with a little balcony...he found it common and conventional, in one word: dull . No skulls, no microscope, no mold cultures on the table; only some sentimental souvenirs, too many fluffy pillows on the white leather couch , and floral curtains...He shuddered internally, and focused his attention on Molly, who was sitting beside him . He had seen her with her hair down only once, when she had showed him the lifeless body of Irene Adler , the Woman. It was just hours later that infamous Christmas party at Baker Street, when he had managed to behave like an idiot in front of everybody, and to hurt Miss Hooper with his careless (and wrong) deductions. He had been too busy, during those days, with the Woman and the questions she arose (about himself, his attitude towards sentiment and sexual attraction, that he had managed to keep at bay remarkably until that moment, until the appearance of Irene Adler), to analyze properly the events of that night .

While he was dead to the world, trying to dismantle Moriarty's web, alone, he had finally the time to examine his memories . He had apologised to Molly, during the party, and after a few hours , he had managed to hurt her again: he had seen the way her face had fallen when he recognised the Woman from her body, and not from her face . Sherlock had hurt her several times, he was aware of it; but when he had needed her the most, Molly had been there, without asking questions, or something in return. Now, years later , she was not a mousy, stuttering , shy pathologist: Molly Hooper was a woman who was ready to live her life , and to forget her ridiculous crush for Sherlock Holmes . He could see it from several evidences: her dress, for example . Years ago, her dress was unfitting, chosen to impress him , with those sparkly details, and the too big earrings, and the unflattering lipstick . Now, she was wearing a dress that was perfect on her , because she had chosen it for herself . The fact that she had decided to wear it for the dinner was a coincidence, he was sure of that: he had noticed the glare Molly gave to Mary when she had seen him arriving at the restaurant, wearing that shirt because John and Mrs Hudson had insisted to. Well, the fact that she had bought a dress of this colour spoke volumes of her subconscious: he had caught her ogling him too many times to not know that she appreciated that shirt .

Mary and John were still in the kitchen looking for some glasses, and whispering rather wildly to one another. Molly looked at Sherlock, and she was opening her mouth, when the doctor and his fiancée came back , standing right in front of their guests .

John looked a bit embarrased . " Well, Mary and I are very glad that you are here, tonight, because we want to ask you someth-".

" Yes".

" You don't know what I'm going to ask you, Sherlock ".

" Wrong. I've known it for a week . The answer is still the same. We accept ".

This time Molly was the one surprised . "We ?".

Sherlock sighed . "Yes, Molly . I suppose you will be ecstatic to accept the position of maid of honour that Mary is going to offer you, and I'm not opposed to the idea to be John's best man ".

" Are you sure ?" John asked .

" I'm honored to be your best man, Dr. Wats-" Sherlock was surprised by John's hug, but quickly recovered , patting his back awkwardly, since he was still on the couch.

" And what about you , Molly ? Are you ready to be my maid of honour ?".

" Of course ! I'm going to help you with everything, and you're going to have the best hen party ever !" Molly jumped to hug her friend, and a few tears were shared by the two women .

" I think it's time for champagne ! I propose a toast !" John hurried to the kitchen and opened the fridge . " Uhm..Mary, would you come here, please ?".

Mary reached his fiancée , and after a second both returned to the living room . " It seems someone forgot to buy champagne, yesterday..." Mary started, and John quickly interjected " The supermarket around the corner is still open...ten minutes and I will be back !"

" Oh no, this time I'm coming with you...I want to be sure you're going to buy it for real . Molly, Sherlock , would you mind to wait here ? It's going to be quick, I promise !" Mary said, taking her purse .

" There's no need for you to buy champagne..." Molly argued, but John stated firmly " No. We need to celebrate, and we are going to celebrate with a flute of champagne. Ten minutes, and we're back !" and with those words , they left in a hurry .

* * *

" Well...what about the case John mentioned at dinner ? Is it the reason you didn't come at St. Barts this week ?" Molly made an attempt at small talk, hoping that Sherlock would be cooperative. The silence in the room was at least awkward , now that John and Mary had left them alone .

Sherlock didn't reply . _"Not cooperative at all, what a surprise"_.

" How did John solve it before you ? ". _Let's try to aim at his wounded pride..._

" It wasn't a real case . John had a previous insight on the matter, and it was simpler for him to arrive at a conclusion ".

" Was it about the solar system, perhaps ?".

Sherlock glared at her . " No, it wasn't ".

" So what was it about ?" Molly tried to inquire, but Sherlock had obviously decided that the discussion was boring, because he silently left the sofa and went in the kitchen.

" Do you want a glass of water ?" . The question surprised her. " Yes, thank you, Sherlock ".

" Cold from the fridge ?".

" Yes , thanks ".

Sherlock came back with a bottle and two glasses.

" John and Mary have gone to the supermarket 20 minutes ago...they said they were going to be back in ten minutes- I'll call Mary, maybe there's a row... "

" At 10 p.m ?".

Molly was the one glaring at him, this time . "Strange, it's going straight to the voicemail . I'm trying with John ".

" Useless ".

" Excuse me ? I'm worried about my friends, this is not useless !" was Molly's reply .

" They're not coming back here ".

" What do you mean " They're not coming back here " ? It's their flat , of course they're coming back ! ".

Sherlock sighed, clearly irritated . "John spent the entire day cleaning the flat at Baker Street; he even disinfected the kitchen . He bought a dozen rose scented candles, Mary's favourites , whipped cream and strawberries. I think they're currently uncorking their bottle of champagne right now ".

" Maybe he bought all these things for another occasion...".

" John winked at Mary, after we left the restaurant and everyone else ran away ".

Molly remained silent for a minute . She considered the fact that May had insisted so much to make her choose that dress for the dinner, and that Mrs Hudson , Greg and Harry seemed so strangely keen to go away, as fast as they could . " Oh, Mary Morstan, you bit- Wait a minute, you knew! You knew that they were plotting something and you didn't do anything to stop them! Alright , you can stay here, because obviously they don't want you back at Baker Street, but I'm going home. Sherlock, pick the lock ".

" No. I can't ".

" No ? You picked the lock of my cabinet at St. Barts two weeks ago to take my old stethoscope, God knows why. Why can't you pick the lock of John's door now ?".

" Because I am restricted from picking this particular lock . John made me promise two days ago ".

" Probably to preserve his privacy when you will decide in the future that you need him and you can't wait for him or Mary to open the door...Just open the door, Sherlock, please. I want to go home ! " Molly begged.

" I promised , Molly. It would go against my conscience".

" You decide to develop a conscience now !? ".

Sherlock smirked . " Anyway, you're wrong ".

" About what ? ". The young pathologist was almost exasperated now . She didn't like this situation, not at all.

" Their plan was not only to have me outside my flat, but also to have you outside yours. More specifically, to have both of us here , now ".

" Why ?" Molly asked in disbelief .

" To talk . About us ".


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steve Moffat, Mark Gatiss own Sherlock and his realm. I just own my computer,my version of Openoffice, and my sick fantasies. English is not my native language, please forgive the mistakes and the typos.

_" Their plan was not only to have me outside my flat, but also to have you outside yours. More specifically, to have both of us here , now "_

_" Why ? " Molly asked in disbelief ._

_" To talk . About us "_

* * *

Since when there was an "us"?. Molly Hooper had dreamed, and fantasized about Sherlock pronouncing that word, referring to himself and her , for a long time . But it had been a long time ago. Right now Molly had reached a point where she was quite sure to be able to lock away her dreams, her fantasies, her feelings for Sherlock, and begin a new chapter of her life. She knew that it would be difficult , but she felt ready. And sad. Mostly ready , and only sometimes sad.

She was aware that the fact that she liked "House M. D." so much must mean something: despite her efforts , her subconscious was still not convinced about her decision. It was her subconscious that had chosen that dress in the shop, in the same shade of purple of Sherlock's expensive shirt. It had been her subconscious, which found charming a rude, cynical fictional medical doctor...a man who was almost identical to the man she was trying to forget. The same man who was looking at her with an eager expression , waiting for her reaction.

" Excuse me , did you just say "us"? What do you mean with "us"?".

For a fraction of a second, she saw something in Sherlock's eyes . Was it disappointment? Sadness? Worry? Maybe a combination of the three. She had always seen him. She simply couldn't stop , and she knew it,  because she had tried. Sometimes it hurt too much, finding in his eyes only indifference, false flattery, annoyance, towards her. It was a curse and a bliss, at the same time. It was that skill that had made her help him defeat Moriarty, and what at the same time made her heart ache when he had looked sad, broken, trying to hide his suffering, after his fake death. It was that uncanny ability, which let her feel his excitement every time he solved a case, or composed a new melody. It showed her the whole him, the real Sherlock Holmes. The Sherlock she loved .

Molly knew that she was still in love with him; she could never really stop loving him. She just wanted to pretend that she, like John and Mary, could have a simple, normal life. Find a nice guy, who was neither a psychopath nor a sociopath. Date him, get engaged, marry him, and give herself the false pretense that she could be happy, even without the man she loved, but could not love her back. Maybe in time, with a great effort , she would start to pretend that Sherlock Holmes was just a beautiful memory, or even better: only a fragment of her imagination. She needed to try, at least. Even if it was written in the stars that she would love Sherlock Holmes for all her life, she still had the right to fight her destiny, her fate. A fate that was obviously against her, it seemed, because Sherlock Holmes had decided now that an "us" existed for them. He was never good with timing, she thought .

* * *

Sherlock Holmes had discovered that John and Mary were plotting something two days ago . Hushed phone conversations , John's futile attempts to clean the living room in a subtle way, and then the grocery shopping bags full of aphrodisiac food and candles...He could have stopped them, Molly was right. He could have avoided easily this awkward confrontation with Dr. Hooper. Instead he was there, trapped with her in John's new flat, and he was the one who had approached the subject of their relationship .

Why ? When had he become so weak, so stupid? To say the truth, the question was rhetorical. Sherlock Holmes knew the exact moment when he had decided that he needed to speak with his pathologist (D _amn, why did he still call her that ?_ ) .

When John had prompted him to imagine Molly in another man's arms. At first he had quickly dismissed the suggestion. He had no interest in picturing Dr. Hooper's intercourse with a man, whoever he was. For an entire day, he had busied himself rearranging John's socks, and cataloguing different types of mud in his mind palace. The next day, Lestrade ("Greg"- so it was Gregory Lestrade...what a bizarre and awful name ) had texted him - a new case, a robbery, no collateral victims, just a 5 in his scale, so he ignored it and didn't text him back. He thought about Lestrade,though, and about what had happened at Scotland Yard, the reason behind their scuffle .

 _"Imagine Molly in another man's arms, and ask yourself what would you do to be him , just once. You don't need to know anything else, Sherlock "._ John's words echoed in his mind; he had closed his eyes, and suddenly an image had appeared. Lestrade and Molly, at a restaurant, laughing with a complicity born from intimacy. They were drinking wine, the DI was caressing Molly's outstretched arm , and she was blushing. It was _his_  blush, for God's sake! How dare she use it with another man ?! With Lestrade ?! The image changed, they were dancing now, the lights were low and a little swing orchestra was playing " Serenade in blue " by Glenn Miller...Suddenly Lestrade was not the one holding her, it was Moriarty with Molly in his arms. They were swaying on the dance floor, her cheek on his chest, his arms around her waist, in a possessive gesture...Moriarty took a sniff, and Sherlock could smell the light floral perfume (he could detect jasmine, patchouli , cedar tree, honey) Molly was wearing, blended with the scent of her pomegranate shampoo, and the personal fragrance of her skin...Another shift in the image, and it was John ( _John ? What is he doing with her?_ ) the man embracing her . His lips were on her ear, whispering words of endearment...and then his lips were on hers, they were kissing sweetly, her eyes closed, like she was lost in a blissful ecstasy...and John disappeared, Moriarty was the one kissing her now, his usual evil glint in his dark eyes...

" No,no,no,no...No! All of you, stay way from her! She's mine! ". Sherlock found himself shouting the words, waking up from his nightmare. Because it was a nightmare, picturing Molly with another man ( _and why John was one of them ?_ ), and not being the one holding her, making her laugh, touching her skin, tasting the texture of her lips. He blamed his hormones, his so well hidden feelings who were resurfacing now after years of banishment. Sentiment was a disadvantage, for him: it was something that could obfuscate his rationality, his logic...and he was nothing without them, without his precious brain. Compassion, attraction, were the weapons The Woman had employed to made a fool of him. Caring ( for John, for Mrs Hudson, for Lestrade) was the lever that Moriarty had used to try to defeat him.

Despite his knowledge that emotions were dangerous for him, despite his successful attempts to avoid feelings, Sherlock Holmes was there, in his living room, visualizing a reality in which Molly Hooper was not his. He didn't like it. The consulting detective knew he was selfish, narcissist, and didn't deal well with changes; but the fact that Molly Hooper was to substitute him with another man, created a heavy emptiness in his chest . It was something new, something terrifying...but exciting, at the same time. With a sigh, he had risen from his armchair: he was ready to face his fears .

* * *

" Dr. Hooper...". Sherlock noted the frown on Molly's delicate face at the too formal way he was addressing her. "Molly...please don't insult my intelligence, or yours . You know exactly what I mean when I say "us". And I think it's time to speak about it. Please, sit down ".

Molly returned to the sofa, and sat down, eyeing suspiciously the man in front of her. He was plotting something, she didn't know what he was trying to do, but there was a strange spark in his eyes, like it happened when he was near to unveil a mystery .

" You can see me, Molly . What do you see in me, now ?".

The young pathologist was taken by surprise. Since that night in the laboratory, when Sherlock had discovered that she had this strange "ability", if you can define it that way, he had not once asked her to "see" him. She thought he would never do it, really. It was like he was embarrassed by the fact that he was so transparent to her, that she could perceive that he was not a machine, not a robot, like he pretended to be, but a human being who, for unknown reasons, had decided to hide his feelings from rest of the world .

" You were confused, a few moments ago..." Molly hesitated, but continued "now you're slightly worried, and eager, at the same time ".

" Very good, Molly. Now ask me why ".

" What are you planning, Sherlock ? Because I don't understand you right now,and I don-".

Sherlock cut her off, unceremoniously . " Ask me why I'm worried, and eager . Please ".

The plea won her . " Why are you worried, Sherlock ?".

" Because, Molly Hooper , I fear that you're ready to leave me, and I don't want you to do it ".


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steve Moffat, Mark Gatiss own Sherlock and his realm. I just own my computer,my version of Openoffice, and my sick fantasies. English is not my native language, please forgive the mistakes and the typos.

_" Why are you worried, Sherlock ?"._

_" Because, Molly Hooper , I fear that you're ready to leave me, and I don't want you to do it "._

* * *

" I'm not going anywhere, Sherlock ". The consulting detective noted Molly's voice quivering,only faintly, but decided to ignore it.

" Physically, maybe not yet; but you're mentally and emotionally ready to leave, Molly-don't insult your intelligence or mine trying to deny it . It's simply pointless ".

Molly let a curse escape, but only in her mind. She had counted on him being oblivious during the entire process of the gradual detachment of her life from Sherlock Holmes. Instead he was there, in front of her, well aware of her intentions, and he didn't seem inclined to let her go. The pathologist was at loss. " _He knows. Of course he knows, Molly, he's the one and only Sherlock Holmes , the master of deduction,he probably figured it out from the way you tie your laces or handle your purse..."._ It wasn't fair: she had thought he would have been relieved, because finally mousy Molly Hooper had come to term with reality and finally understood that all her daydreaming were only fantasies, rather than possibilities . Oh, if only she could really hate him, for his timing, for his constant poking in her life, for his careless flattering...She knew she was a coward, but she didn't want to discuss it with him there, trapped in John and Mary's flat..." _Wait a minute. John...Mary...the wedding-stupid Molly ! It's not about you - it's never about you ! He's afraid of being alone, now that John is moving out !"_

"Sherlock, is it about the wedding ? Nothing is going to change, you know - John is moving out, but he will always be your blogger, your best friend, your partner in crime-solving ".

Oh, dear Molly Hooper . Still convinced that she didn't count . " _How many times do I have to repeat myself before the people understand ?"._

" It's not about John - it's ab-".

" You're talking about Mrs Hudson, arent' you ? She's going to be away crusing only for a month, Sherlock, then you'll have your landlady back. Martha will always be there for you ".

" What about you, Molly ?".

" What about me ?".

" Will you always be there for me ?".

Something in Molly cracked, imperceptibly. She tried not to look in his eyes - she cursed again her ability to see him , it made everything more difficult, always.

" Of course , as long as St. Barts is going to have me ".

Sherlock let out a frustrated sigh. It was more arduous than he had predicted .

" I'm not talking about you as a pathologist, Molly. I'm talking about Ms. Molly Hooper, the woman who helped me".

" Sherlock, how can you even start to doubt it? I'm your friend, like John, Martha, Greg-she saw him grimacing at the mention of Lestrade's name, but she decided to ignore it. "Nothing is going to change that, you can count on it ".

" Are you sure ?".

" Sherlock, now you're starting to worry me - what happened ?" she asked, her tone alarmed .

" You! You happened! You stopped stammering, and became more confident, and started to treat me like you do with John, or Mike, or  _Greg_  -he spat the last name- or any other man in your life. I waited for a long time for you to overcome your silly crush, but now it had happened , and it annoys me !"

Molly decide to count till three before giving him an answer. He was disturbed by something, almost shaken, and she didn't want to distress him. On the other side, she was strangely curious . Blimey, Sherlock was a grown man, he could tolerate a bit of mockery. At least she hoped .

" So now you're annoyed by the fact that I'm not the irritating, mousy girl I was before? You're annoyed by the fact that I don't annoy you anymore, am I correct ? Are you offended by it ?". " _God damn this man's ego, it's bigger than the moon !"._

" Yes! No! I- I don't know! Jesus, I'm the one stammering now !". Sherlock was so distressed that he didn't notice the spark in her bright eyes, or how her lips were slowly turning upward, and just continued to rant. "You're finally ready to leave me, really leave me, and I know when you took that decision. It was that night in the laboratory, when I asked you to help me faking my death, wasn't it ? You can see me, Molly, you saw then my flaws, my weaknesses, and you realized that I'm not the extraordinary man you thought I was, and-".

" Sherlock Holmes, you are really an extraordinary idiot ".

The consulting detective stared at her, his mouth agape. He was usually the one calling the others idiots, not the one receiving the insult .

" yes, Mr Holmes, you heard it right. You are really an idiot. How could you possibly believe that that day I saw you as an ordinary, normal, dull man ?".

" But you said it, the other day in the morgue - that it was in that moment that your crush died, you realised that I was just a man, a pathetic man...".

" I didn't say that. You're the most incredible man I've ever known . You're always going to be that for me. Yes, that day my crush for you died, because I realised that it was not a crush anymore. It was something more, Sherlock, and before I tell you what it was, I need to know why . Why are you behaving like this ?".

" I ca- I can't tell you. Christ, how could you live with this annoying stuttering ? It's excruciating ".

" It will pass, Sherlock . Now tell me, why ?".

Sherlock looked into her eyes. He saw comfort, and acceptance , and something else he couldn't define.

" I don't experiment fear, or doubt, very often, Molly; but right now, I can't find another word to define how... _how I feel_  ".

" Were you afraid of darkness when you were a boy, Sherlock ?". She patted the white leather sofa and encouraged him to sit down. Sherlock did it, and Molly continued, without waiting for an answer. " One night, I was four years old, I couldn't find my night-light. It was a cute ladybug night-light, my grandma gave it to me. I started to cry, and called my father. He said to me " Trust me, Molls- there are no monsters under your bed, or behind your armchair, or inside your closet. Embrace your fears, and you will see that there's nothing to be afraid of . I suspect he had hidden my night-light, but the message is: is it worth cry, or losing your sleep, for something that you are afraid of ? Is it worth to abstain from something that may be beautiful, only because it's something new, or different ? ".

Sherlock inhaled and then slowly exhaled. Maybe she was right . Hiding because of fear was not something people expected from him.

" For a long time I thought that you being distracted by another man would be convenient. For both of us . Do you remember what I told you once ? " You should no longer-".

" Pursue relationship in order to preserve law and order" she quoted. "Yes, Sherlock, I remember it quite well . One of your best advice ". Sarcasm dripped from her voice .

" It was a rather stupid thing to order you, I admit it, and I apologise . Although...".

" What ? You were apologising, it was my clue to accept your apologies. No "although". Just " Sorry, Molly".

" You didn't do what I told you to do, did you Miss Hooper ? You dated someone when I was in hiding ".

" No I didn't ".

" Don't lie to me . You did, and you dated someone we both know. I still don't understand his appeal... ".

" Listen, I don't know who told you this, but it was completely innocent...and I don't understand why I'm starting to ask you for forgiveness . You had, and you have still no right to interfere with my love life" Molly fumed. How could this man be so infuriating ? They were having a heart-to-heart conversation just a few seconds ago, and now he was accusing her of something completely stupid .

" Lestrade told me. You were both lonely, and it was over before it even started. It's true, isn't it ? ".

" I didn't date Lestrade ! We went to the pub a few times, and it was only because he was finally divorcing and needed a friend to rant - well, now that we have solved it, back to your apologies" Molly rushed, hoping he didn't notice her urgency to distract him from her date history during his "death".

" You're staring at your shoes. You always do that when you're distressed, or...guilty. You feel guilty about something . Obviously it didn't work. Damn him and his observing skills.

" Nothing of importance".

" I'm the wrong man to lie to, Molly...".

" It was just a kiss, Sherlock! For God's sake, it was just an innocent kiss, nothing more than a peck!" she shouted, exasperated .

" So Lestrade lied to me. He's been good, the silver fox..." the consulting detective stood up, and started pacing.

" Greg didn't lie to you. I didn't kiss Lestrade - and to be honest, I was not the one who initiated the kiss, keep it in mind ".

" Who ?".

" Sherlock, it's my life, and it's not your business, alright ?".

Suddenly Sherlock had a brainwave." It was _him_ , wasn't it ? That's why he was so agitated; he was not trying to protect Lestrade, he was trying to deflect my attention ! Sneaky little bastard...".

" Sherlock, it didn't mean anything...".

Sherlock interrupted her. " Molly, stop defending him! Now it all makes sense...the dream...".

" What dream ?" she inquired.

" Don't try to divert my attention, Molly ! You kissed John !".

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steve Moffat, Mark Gatiss own Sherlock and his realm. I just own my computer,my version of Openoffice, and my sick fantasies. English is not my native language, please forgive the mistakes and the typos.

"Technically, I didn't kiss him . He kissed me. And just for the record, IT'S. NOT. YOUR. BUSINESS! ".

Sherlock Holmes, the great and only consulting detective, didn't react. He didn't even flinch at Molly's raised voice. He observed Molly in silence, trying to decide if he wanted to deduce her or not . He always missed something. A few days ago (when John had started to blink more frequently, and to type more slowly on the laptop, while he was trying to understand who "the mysterious limping doctor" was ), John wasn't trying to protect Lestrade . He was trying to protect himself . And now what he had imagined, that kind of dream induced by John's words, had more sense. John kissing Molly - he still found it strange, out of place, but it was his subconscious trying to point out what he had blindly and too quickly discarded before .

Molly was right. He had no right to be...angry? Offended? _"Jealous, you're jealous, Sherlock "_ John would have said . He honestly didn't know. He knew he had no right to snoop into her life like that . He was neither his brother, or any kind of relative figure; nor he was his "boyfriend". He had no right to snoop into her life, yet he had done it several times. To protect her from another failure, he had said to John, when his blogger had questioned his manners and timing . He had been cruel to her, with the selfish use of the knowledge that she was infatuated with him, with his careless words of flattery; mostly, with his indifference towards her. Sherlock had treated her worse than John, Lestrade or Mrs Hudson-not that he had treated them too kindly, too.

After his return, his landlady (but Mrs Hudson was more that that, to him: another mother figure, more present and affectionate than his real mother) had said to him: " It's very strange, that the people we love are often the people we are most cruel to ". It sounded like a paradox, but it was true, indeed. He would only dissent with the choice of word. Love. He despised the term. So overused, it was almost void of any significance. " I love that dress! I love that film! I love you, honey!". How many times had he heard people use it without really meaning a thing? Instead, he understood the concept behind the simple word, because it was because of love, that he had risked his life, jumping from St. Bart's roof, to save the persons he cared for . His family. Because they were his family, a family he had chosen for himself, and for that reason more dear to him than the one the genes had given him. It was because of love, that the woman in front of him had risked her life, her career, to help him faking his death. At least, he had believed it until months ago, until she had gradually distanced herself from him. Maybe it had been love then, but right now? He wasn't so sure anymore . And he hated doubt .

" I beg to differ ".

" What ?! " Molly spluttered.

" It's my business. John is my blogger, my flatmate and my best friend. You are...my...pathologist. Two of the people I trust most - and please, Molly, don't do that face, it's highly unattractive on a woman of your age, plus I've told you before that I trust you- lied to me, and kissed each other. As you can see, it's pretty obvious that it's my business ".

" We didn't lie to you !" the pathologist retorted, incensed.

" Lying by omission is still lying, Molly...but it's not what I'm interested in. You said before it was innocent, didn't you ?".

" Yes, but-" Molly admitted, but Sherlock continued "I don't believe you . Prove it to me".

" What ?! How ?! We didn't film it, Sherlock! I may try to phone John again, and you can ask him...". It seemed all a really bizarre dream, to Molly: maybe she was dreaming, yes, it was plausible...

"He's not going to answer his phone . You will have to show me. Kiss me ".

Sherlock Holmes had seen Molly Hooper do some odd things . He had caught her eating a disgusting chocolate concoction covered with an insane amount of sugar; during his brief stay in her flat, he had once witnessed her perform " The Empire strikes back " from beginning to end, doing all the parts ; but the way she was laughing at him now...well, that took the first prize .

Molly calmed down, and tried to not start to laugh in Sherlock's face again. " Al- alright Sherlock, you're funny, really. Make me sit down just a little bit, because I'm feeling a little strange, right now..." she continued to giggle, but in a more subtle way .

" It was not a joke . I'm serious . Show me ".

 _"He's toying with you , Molly . He's testing you, God knows why. Do you want him to win like that ?"_ her mind chided her . " Ok ".

He would have liked to say that he was not surprised, but in the last six months Molly Hooper had done it a lot. Surprising him,keeping him on edge with her changes. It had been...challenging. Even refreshing, sometimes . Surely exciting, now.

" Where did it happen ?". He was genuinely curious.

" Baker Street . Mrs Hudson called me because John was drunk, and she was frightened he would do something rash".

" And then ?" Sherlock insisted.

" I found him drunk, on the sofa. I tried to comfort him, and then...it happened. Like this". With those words, she leaned towards Sherlock, who had reached her on the sofa, and quickly pecked his lips. She didn't allow herself the time to satisfy her curiosity about the texture of his mouth, and retreated, waiting for his reaction.

" Wrong. That's not how it happened" he stated firmly.

" Excuse me ? You weren't there, Sherlock ! How could you possibly know that ?".

" So you confirm it, don't you ? Anyway, you said he was drunk, wasted. No drunk man (or woman) possesses the ability to kiss someone else so delicately".

" Alright, it wasn't like that . Now that we agree on this, let-".

" Was it more like this ?". Sherlock didn't give her the time to reply, because this time he was the one initiating the kiss. He took her lower lip between his, and sloppily suck it. The tip of his tongue caressed briefly the skin, before stopping altogether . His voice was only slightly breathy when he asked her " Am I correct ?".

She nodded . Her lips -so thin, too thin, he had once said- were tingling. " _He just kissed me...Sherlock Holmes just kissed me...Why_  ?". His voice interrupted her reverie .

" Well, now I agree with you. It was just an innocent kiss - because I'm inclined to believe that, if John were really interested in you, he would have done this" and with that Sherlock tried to capture her mouth again, only to be stopped by Molly's hands on his lips.

" Stop it, Sherlock . Stop, please ". Sherlock obeyed, and Molly dropped her hand on the soft leather of the couch .

" We need to talk, Sherlock . You need to explain yourself, because right now, I really can't understand you ".

Sherlock nodded, and waited fro Molly to remove her fingers. " Molly, during all my adult life, I had believed that attachment is the great fabricator of illusions, for our society. Reality can be attained only by someone who is completely detached from the others, and to be the best at what I do, I need to distance myself from the others. Said that, I'm not a machine, like John once told me. I have feelings, yet I simply choose to ignore them, most of the time...because the feelings, every kind of feelings -anger, attraction, jealousy- risk to cloud my judgement, and I can't risk that. "Alone protects me" is my mantra, my supreme rule. But every rule has an exception. How many times have Lestrade, John, Mrs Hudson, and you Molly, protect me ? From my self-destructive tendencies, from my enemies ? I wouldn't be here without your help, Molly. What I'm trying to say is that...the fall, it changed something in me. My mind is letting the reins loose, sometimes. I don't despise compassion, and empathy, like I did before , because it was because of them, that you decided to help me, a man who cinically used you for years, and didn't show his appreciation once. There's a constant turmoil, and I feel like a human contradiction, because a part of me consider feelings, emotion, a weakness...and that's why your crush for me stopped . Because you saw that day that I'm weak, pathetic, ordinary...".

"Did I mention before that you're a moron? Because that's what you are, if you believe that I stopped...having feelings for you. That day I saw you. All of you. The man-child, the genius, the friend, the handsome man, the annoying little brat, the meticulous scientist. All the aspects of your personality. Until that moment, I had put you on a pedestal, like the teenagers do: you were perfect, without a flaw. In one word: fake. That day, I put together all the pieces, and I understood that it was not a childish crush anymore. It was love. A sentiment that I tried to fight, because love, caring so deeply for another person, it hurts, Sherlock. Love makes you vulnerable. You build this wall around you, brick after brick, and this person, without your permission, breaks in and start to wander around . He takes a piece of you, something that you wouldn't rationally give...your heart . If you're lucky, this person will treat your heart like its own, and protect it like the most precious treasure. It takes a lot of trust, a lot of courage, to let someone handle your heart; but in the end, there's nothing you can do against it; there's no way to know the future. The only thing I know, is that I'm stuck with you. I keep wanting to move on, and I can't. I love you. I wish I didn't...but I can't help it . So please Sherlock, if what you did before was only a way to make fun of me, stop. You're entitled to be who you are, just...don't try to confuse me ".

He remained silent, listening to her with great attention. Molly Hooper's heart was still in his hands. It was a great responsibility, he could understand that -but he didn't feel frightened. It was like he had solved a puzzle, which gave him the opportunity to start another one, even bigger, even more challenging and exciting .

"I believe it's only time to see if someone is clever enough to climb over my walls, then".

This time Sherlock gave Molly time to reject his attempt to kiss her. He moved very slowly, his gaze on her lips, slightly parted. He was cautious, at first, waiting for her to realize that he was not wearing a mask, letting his lips showing his intentions: then she let a sigh escape her lips, and he interpreted like a sign of trust. He started to caress her skin, and marvelled at how soft it was. He registered how the simple pressure of his tongue on hers could elicit more satisfying sounds, and how he didn't feel weak, but rather powerful, instead. His fingers found deftly the zip of her dress, and she tried to stop his ministrations when he was dragging it halfway on her back. " Do you want me to stop ?". His breath caressed the skin below her ear, and she shivered when his lips closed on her lobe . " No..it's just...". Sherlock put her hands on her face, his fingertips grazing her cheekbones, and tilted her head, to let her look into his eyes. " Too fast ?".

" I've waited for years for this moment, Sherlock- the timing is not my problem. It's the setting. We are in Mary and John's new flat, I don't think it's appropriate for us to...".

" To...?"

" To do what we are doing, Sherlock !".

" And what are we doing, Dr. Hooper ?". Sherlock resumed to kiss her, concentrating on her collarbone and her neck now.

" Sherlock, you know...what I mean...we can't...here!". Her voice took a higher pitch when he lowered the shoulder strap of her dress, revealing her lacy purple bra.

" Molly, don't worry. I have every intention to thank John in the most appropriate way for letting us stay in his flat tonight".

* * *

When John Watson and Mary Morstan arrived at their flat, the next morning, they honestly didn't know what to expect. They hoped for no dead bodies, nor unrequested nudity. What they found was surely unexpected. Four huge delivery men were carrying their leather sofa down the stairs; a fifth man gave him wordlessly an envelope and followed his coworkers. John opened the letter swiftly and read a note to his fiance.

_" Dear Mary and John, during our staying overnight in your flat, Molly grew rather fond of your couch. I took the liberty to arrange its relocation to her flat, where you can find me, for the next few hours. A bank transfer of 1000 pounds to your count to repay for your sofa should be finalized in the afternoon._ _Best regards,_ _Sherlock Holmes._

_p.s: thank you , from the both of us "._

**_The End_ **

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know your opinions, and thanks for reading !


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